


chat noir

by Charkey234



Category: The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: F/M, I'm Bad At Tagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:35:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25698166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charkey234/pseuds/Charkey234
Summary: Camilla likes Palamedes, Palamedes likes Camilla, both are idiots. Also Corona likes Cam but is supportive! Corona knocks some sense into her.
Relationships: Camilla Hect/Palamedes Sextus
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	chat noir

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry to Corona in advance. There was so much more of her but it got intimidating. Will write her happiness soon! She will be happy I promise  
> THANK YOU TO MY LOCKED TOMB FRIENDS  
> k bye

For all his intellectual strengths, The Warden of Sixth House, Palamedes Sextus was terrible at being human. This left Camilla Hect, his best friend, and maybe more someday, to see that he did all of those basic things like eating or sleep or even breathing. 

Some days looked different. Sometimes he went to sleep at 4 am, covers abandoned, book smashed against his face. Or he just refused to sleep, eyes wide and frantic by his caffeine intake. His hands shook, vision blurred at the edges by delirium, but he kept going anyway. Kept studying, thinking, words tumbling from his mouth, stumbling over each other, in their haste to be understood and analyzed. 

If you asked Camilla, she would tell you point blank that she was guilty of drugging him, once or twice. I mean it wasn’t like he wasn’t doing it to himself right? Caffeine is a drug, too she’d say. She did it to keep him alive. Don’t think about that. Him not being there. 

When they went to college it was worse, he had an excuse, harder classes. “Cam, I have a paper due in the morning.” Or “I need to get this reading done.” 

So she’d be forced to lay in his bed at an ungodly hour, covers pulled up to her nose, and watch him bleed himself dry. Because that’s what he was doing, wasn’t it? His writing and equations and theories that seemed to appear effortlessly, really weren’t effortless, taking a little bit more from his veins every second. Because she couldn’t have him the way she wanted, she’d try to inhale his comforting smell from the crinkly cheap sheets. 

It wasn’t like she hadn’t touched him before. That’s not how they were. Physical affection was nearly constant. Playful shoves, fights with kitchen towels. They were both lanky and somewhat light, always bouncing on their toes. Cam especially. Ever since they were young she’d made a game of sneaking upon him, and poking him hard, darting away before he could grab her. Sometimes she got away just barely, pads of his fingertips brushing her side. She’d giggle and stand on the other side of the cramped tiled kitchen, smiling, daring him to do something. She knew his facial expressions enough to know when he smiled a certain way, eyes sizing her up, that he was doing some needlessly complicated thinking to figure out how fast he had to move to grab her. 

He’d called her _Chat Noir_ since ninth grade French class, in deference to her short-cropped dark hair and her agile nature. Palamedes had never been great at French and Cam was sure he didn’t remember much of it. Once, she’d asked him why, out of a whole four years of French, that was what he remembered. 

He’d smiled softly and said, “I remember everything that pertains to you, silly.” 

* * *

There were times where he was ready, catching her faster than she could move, stopping whatever he was embroiled in to grab her waist and lift her off of her feet. She’d shriek and he’d make a triumphant noise and after a few minutes of laughter, he’d let her go, withdrawing his arms from around her waist. Almost instantly she’d want to ask him to do it again but never did. Other times, instead of letting her go he’d flip her around and toss her over his shoulder and hold her by her ankles.

Leaving the kitchen, he’d let her hang there, shrieking expletives at him, until he stood in front of the couch where he could often toss her down on the cushion, so she’d bounce. He’d smile down at her and leave her there, returning to the kitchen where she could see him through the window-like cutout in between it and the small living room. Cam would roll on her side, trying to catch her breath from screaming, or maybe just from being close to him.

For the longest time, she wondered if this was what love was, because it was amazing but sometimes bitter, with his letters to a sick girl far away, all his studies orbiting around her, trying to figure out how to make it possible that they could love each other for longer than she had left. It wasn’t like they’d ever talked about strictly being friends or anything, but with all those letters and his stacks of medical textbooks, she knew this was the only way she could keep him with her. She didn’t think she could bear separating with him, so much of her memories and thoughts tangled up with images of him.

Not to say that there wasn’t an unspoken line between them and that they hadn’t almost crossed it before. Emphasis on almost. When she’d come out of the bathroom most nights to see him asleep with his glasses still on and she’d smiled and eased them off his face, wanting nothing more than to kiss him awake instead. She’d been there when a baby faced version of him, only thirteen, had realized that he was in love with someone who was dying. That she could die at any moment and any letter could be the last, only finding out after the fact that all his efforts were fruitless. They’d sat on his bed studying, him pouring over the newest letter for the tenth time when his concentrated whispers and the tapping of a pencil against an open book stopped. She’d only noticed because it was so sudden, and she looked up from calculating X to see him staring over her head, eyes huge behind his glasses, tears beginning to well up. 

It had scared her, and she’d froze for a second before swallowing dryly and hurriedly closing the work, tossing it on the floor. 

Scooting closer she’d wrapped her arms around his neck, and hunched over so they both sat on their knees, his head against her shoulder. She hadn’t known how to respond when he’d simply repeated, “I can’t save her..” for what felt like hours. She’d shushed him and twined her fingers through the hair at the naps of his neck, telling him that she knew and that she loved him. Ignoring a harsh ache in her chest, she held him until he passed into a light sleep. She tried to tuck him in, but he stirred slightly and reached for her. 

“Stay.” 

“I’m just here.” She murmurs, tapping the bed with her fingernails for emphasis. 

So she stayed only until she was sure he was asleep, and just before leaving, pressed a light kiss to his forehead. Camilla wanted to stay, to curl around him and drift off. But no. That would be too much. Too much of everything she loved. 

As they got older it became slightly different, more hugs and wearing his clothes. He’d have a bad day and link his hand through hers on the walk home from dinner, watching the way his profile was tinged by the orange glow of the streetlamp. He’ll tug on her fingers to get her attention now or drum his fingers along her arms, causing goosebumps to crop up. Sometimes he’ll flop down on the couch, head in her lap, allowing her to run her fingers through his curls, which always elicited a pleasing hum that sends Cam’s heart fluttering. 

She doesn’t have many other friends but a girl from her English class, Coronabeth, had invited her to a party. The girl was a mutual friend of both she and Palamedes and it wasn’t often that she got invited to things. 

She told herself she was only going to give Pal time alone to finish a paper. It was loud and stuffy, so loud it made her brain feel like it was bouncing in her head. Almost exactly when she arrived she wanted to leave, return to the quiet of the apartment. At the same time, Cam was tired of wanting, tired of having everything she could ever want, or almost. She had gritted her teeth into some semblance of a smile, and gone to find Coronabeth. With the forced smile painted across her face, she pushed her way through the thick mass of people, all dancing and moving to something that for Cam, seems nonsensical. It isn’t like the records Pal played, all soft sounds and smooth transitions, classical and jazz. Even the rock music he sometimes blares has a point, she thinks. A beginning, middle, and ending, unlike this loud cacophony that didn’t go together and never seemed to end. 

* * *

Cam had expected Coronabeth to be right in the middle of it, laughing and swinging her hips along with the rest of them. Instead, she found her laying on her back in one of the bedrooms. The lights were off, an eerie glow coming from the streetlamp outside. She approached the bed quietly, careful not to knock over the plastic cup of unidentifiable liquid that sat on the floor, discarded, but in reach of Coronabeth’s outstretched fingers. 

“You came!” Corona mutters, tipping her head back to smile lazily at Cam. 

Smiling slightly, she wiped her suddenly sweaty palms against her jeans and stuffed her hands awkwardly into her pockets. Damned women’s jeans never had deep enough pockets. 

“Yeah, you invited me. Thought I’d come and see what all the fuss was about.” Cam moves toward the bed, sitting on the edge inches from the other girls’ arm. 

“Well, I’m glad you came.” 

Cam found herself pleasantly surprised by Corna’s words and she smiled. “I am too.” 

Minutes later, Cornabeth had scooched to the other side of the bed and yanked on Cam’s arm, so she lay on her back beside her. 

“What are you doing?” Cam asked glancing at Cor. 

“You look like you needed a hug,” she said with a shrug. 

Cam studied the ceiling in the resulting silence as Corona threw her arm around her shoulder. “Yeah...I guess I do.” 

“Did something happen between you and Palamedes?” Cor asks softly, turning her head to look at Camilla. 

Camilla took a deep breath and sighed, letting the air out slowly. “No...well, it’s less about what isn’t happening. He’s my best friend...and I just love him more than as a friend, you know?” 

A laugh bubbles from Coronabeth’s mouth, the hair beside Cam’s ear-tickling her face. “Are you just realizing this? Cam...that boy loves you. Every time you walk into a room, his face practically turns into the heart eye emoji. When you talk, it’s like he can’t get enough of what you say. He always pipes up after you give your opinion and he cares about what you think.” 

Coronabeth’s voice becomes softer, barely more than a murmur. “I mean could you blame him? I mean you’re beautiful. If he doesn’t want to make a move, you do it. And if he doesn’t respond, it’s his loss, not yours” she says this almost sadly as if she’s had experience with this type of odd heartache. 

Cam supposed she couldn’t call it heartbreak, especially considering she hadn’t even tried to put her heart out there really. It was stupid that she even had to, considering he could read almost every other thought in her head. _Why not this one?_ It still felt pretty shitty, this weird ache that lodged itself in her chest immediately after she’d left the apartment. This feeling is what led Camilla Hect, self-proclaimed badass, and Palamedes’s _Chat Noir_ to cry, next to her not-quite-friend-maybe acquaintance, Coronabeth Tridentarius. They didn’t talk for quite some time, Cor’s arm still slung around Cam’s shoulder as they both stared at the ceiling. 

“Thanks, Cor,” she says sometime later. Cam can hear a smile break out across the other girls’ face. 

“Your welcome,” she says shoving her gently. “Go get your boy.” 

Camilla is up fast, wiping the lingering tears from her cheeks and smiling a grateful smile at Corona. If she had lingered half a second longer, she may have seen the sad smile on her face as she left the party. 

* * *

To say that Camilla runs is an understatement. She moves fast, rubber buckled boots thudding against the ground, brain blank except for what feels like static. The tightness and pressure in her chest builds, except this time she’s not sure if it’s fear or anticipation. Stopping just short of the apartment door, she leans against the wall to catch her breath. _In. Out._ She’s too hopped up on adrenaline to be properly nervous and for that Camilla is grateful. Unlocking the door seemed to take an eternity and by the time the lock released she’d been leaning so hard on the door that she stumbled as she opened it. Palamedes was too focused to notice, and Cam wasn’t sure what she had expected to be different. He sat in the same chair he’d been in when she left hours ago, almost in the same position. The only difference she could see was the lack of light. The sun had sunk below the horizon making his computer screen seem blindingly bright. 

“Pal..” Cam says, surprised at how quiet her voice is. 

“Hm?” Cam knows this is the sound he makes when he’s only half-listening to her. 

She comes to stand in front of him, nudging his knees out of her way, so she stood between him and the computer screen. He looks up at her confused for a moment, eyes glazed and lost in whatever he had been puzzling over until he blinks and he’s smiling up at her. Cam doesn’t say anything, just wraps both arms around his neck and presses her body into the small sliver of chair space not taken up by his pointy elbows. 

“Hi’ he whispered, arms wrapped around her waist. “What...did something happen?” 

She doesn’t reply, just buries her face against his shoulder trying to preserve this moment before she makes a move and possibly burns down everything they’d built together. Nearly a lifetime of trust and happiness, secrets whispered, and dreams shared. 

To his credit, Pal doesn’t push, just lets her sit there, wrapped around him like a cat. He even leans back in his chair to give her more room, squeezes her sides periodically to remind her of his presence. 

Taking a deep breath, she lifts her head and looks at him with his glasses sliding slowly down his nose, crooked where some kid had punched him in middle school. Cam had punched the kid in return and taken Palamedes to the nurse’s office. Now, he looks concerned, worry lines poking out from between his eyebrows. She hated it when that happened. So, she kisses him. He’s tense for a moment, startled before he relaxes and she can practically feel the lines across his forehead disappear. 

Their first kiss is, funnily enough, nothing to write home about. Short and quick, before she’s pulling away to look at him. 

“Wow” he blinks, and it’s so the opposite of what she expected that she laughs, a harsh sound in the quiet living room. 

“I just kissed you after _years_ of wanting to and all you have to say is wow?!” 

The smirk he gives her is wide and mischievous, blooming into a full smile. “What do you want me to say, thank you?” 

“Anything is better than wow!” she says shoving him lightly. 

Pal smiles and tucks a piece of hair that had fallen in her face behind her ear. “Well, what am I supposed to do when a beautiful girl kisses me?” 

“I don’t know!” She says incredulously and presses her forehead to his. 

They sit like that for some time until he moves so his chin rests against her shoulder. “I have a proposition for you. Could we...uh..do that again? For you know research purposes of course.” 

“Right, of course! Purely for research purposes” she teases tilting her head so her mouth hovers over his. 

“On second thought, I was thinking maybe this experiment might have to go on for several years, even. To...get the best results.” 

“Would you shut up already?” 

“Right, sure yeah.” 

If you were to ask Camilla Hect, she might tell you how it was one of the best nights of her life. She might say that she slept in a small swivel desk chair that night and had a neck cramp for days afterward. Although, she’d never tell Palamedes Sextus that.


End file.
